Slow Burn
by LittleGreenLilypad
Summary: "That peace and clarity was being disrupted by the way her heart constricted when she watched him tending to his plants with loving care. She couldn't help wishing that he would give her those tender looks or run his powerful, tanned hands across her body the way he handled his beloved trees."


**AN- This is a little fic that just popped into my head this weekend! I'll most likely leave it as a one-shot, but I might continue it later. I'd love to hear what you think, so please review!**

Sliding the small wooden drawer shut in irritation, Hermione called "Neville, is there any more of this knotgrass? I can't believe I've used it all already, you refilled the drawer yesterday."

Her business partner put his head around the door, frowning slightly. "Did you check the cupboard under the counter?"

"No luck unfortunately, I must have used more than I expected when I was brewing earlier."

Neville came into the shop, wiping his soil-covered hands on his apron as he walked. "I'll gather some more this afternoon if you like. I've just finished repotting the mandrakes, so I should have time before I need to harvest some of the other plants at twilight." He spoke in his usual measured way, smiling at her sweetly.

Hermione's heart did a little flip, as it had, disconcertingly, been doing lately when they spoke. This was most inconvenient, as they spent the better part of every day together at their jointly- owned apothecary shop on Diagon Alley. It had been his idea initially, after the war was over and the dust had settled. He had inherited the premises from his great uncle Algie, and had asked her to be the brewer for the business.

Sick at heart and exhausted to her very core after the fighting had finished, she had surprised everyone, including herself, by accepting his proposal. They had opened the shop together, and now in its second year, it was starting to turn a nice proffit. The time she spent in the cool darkness of her workroom or on the stone bench in Neville's greenhouse soothed her weary soul and brought her a peaceful clarity that she hadn't known she was capable of.

That peace and clarity, however, was being disrupted by the way her heart constricted when she watched him tending to his plants with loving care. She couldn't help wishing that he would give her those tender looks or run his powerful tanned hands across her body the way he handled his beloved trees. Feeling flustered at this thought, she dragged her attention back to the present conversation.

"That would be perfect, thanks Neville. Do you think you'll be done in time for the Women's Empowerment Club meeting tonight? I know you made the new leaflets, but I could always take them for you if you have too much on tonight."

He looked at her incredulously, " I'd never miss a meeting this big, we are just starting to make progress with the campaign! Don't worry, I can always finish up here after if I need to."

His passion for feminism had come as something of a surprise to her when he had first invited her to a meeting. Laughing at her surprise, he had joked that it was inevitable after being raised in a matriarchy, as he had been. Now they attended meetings and rallies together, and had even managed to recruit new members for SPEW from the network.

Looking down at Hermione, Neville hopefully asked, " Do you have a minute to come see the progress of the screech sap seedlings?"

"Why not." Hermione set down her potions book, and followed Neville into the back garden.

The garden, if it could be called something so mundane, was a riot of colors and sounds. She followed him into the largest of the three greenhouses, past the potted mandrakes and the siniterly undulating tentacula. He stopped in front of a tray of what looked like wiggling purple beans. They were nestled into the rich dark fertilizer and were making soft cooing noises of contentment.

Hermione smiled at this endearing sight, and bent down to take a closer look. She ran a finger along one of the seedlings, and felt it's purring vibrations. "They are doing wonderfully Neville, I guess the next step is to repot them in a few days. Thank you for bringing me to see them, I should really come out here more, there's nothing quite like this, is there?"

When she straightened up, he was looking at her with an unexpected intensity. Brow furrowed, she opened her mouth to ask if anything was the matter, and suddenly he was moving towards her with long, purposeful strides. He grasped her face with both hands, pulling her gently but forcefully towards him. His mouth came down on hers, warm and overwhelmingly tender. Her head was swimming, all thoughts crowded out by the feel of him. Abruptly, he released her, stepping back and raking his hands through his hair in a familiar, agitated movement.

"Gods, I'm so sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to- well I did I suppose, I've wanted to do that for ages- but if that's not what you want, I won't do it again. We can go back to how things were- gods please say something Hermione. What do you think?"

His agonised face was so boyish and uncertain that Hermione felt a powerful wave of tenderness wash over her. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. With a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, he circled her with his arms and crushed her to him. He lifted her off her feet, deepening the kiss and making her limbs turn to water. Still holding her, he backed slowly until his calves bumped the low garden bench. Gently he lowered himself onto it, settling her onto his lap. After another sweet, lingering kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers.

Mutely, he buried his face in her neck, arms tight around her waist. Hermione held him to her, stroking his soft brown curls. The peace she always felt with him settled around her like a blanket, making her quite certain that this was only the beginning for them.

**Thanks for reading!**


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